Three years ago this week we were in Toronto. I just came across these photos whilst looking for pictures of Christmas trees (for a post about Christmas trees). The trip was half business, half holidays, and for the most of it I was wretched ill with some bug picked up on the inbound flight, made no better by a really rotten week of weather. Is it too much now to assure you we had a lovely time? On this date, the 8th, three years ago, it was our last day in the city, a Sunday, and in the afternoon we stumbled across this bar, the Triple A, or AAA, on Adelaide Street. There was a small private function on, or was going to be, and officially the place wasn’t open, but we slipped in anyway and were welcomed to take up a discreetly distanced booth over yonder. We did; we settled in; we stayed put.
The bar and the occasion are remembered for feeling really well again. For the easiest, most relaxed service. For the having back the appetite for the handwritten notepaper menu, and especially for the greenly-bitter, local Kensington beers. And, kids, remember this was 2013, when hipster was really, really okay (I personally have no beef, however served). For the artworks on the walls reminding me to revisit my old stuff – to take those folksy chances, trust my earlier penmanship. For the adhering to this that made me turn again to the ‘Cut-Out Poetry’, which became a big thing for me. For the whole period of productivity that followed. For those memories while we looked after Dad. For the darkness of the discovered Sunday afternoon and the lights of Toronto below us as we flew back home. And for the tequilas we got for being Honest Joes about the uncharged round.
Sometimes I try to think, what are my top three bars, pubs, in the world. And I think that it’s so very much to do with… everything.